Out of the Ashes
by milgarion
Summary: He hates to see her hurt. Meggie/Dustfinger AU, Years after the books/movie
1. Chapter 1

The sound of the door shutting barely reached his ears, only the click of it falling into its latch informed him that someone was home. Dustfinger paused, extinguishing the tiny flame he had been watching as it sprouted from his finger tip, leaning over to peer out of the window and into the driveway. It was empty. Which meant that Mo and Resa weren't back yet. He frowned lightly, listening closely for the sound of soft footsteps on the stairs, the door to Meggie's room slightly louder in the silence of the house.

Dustfinger looked at the clock on the wall, she wasn't supposed to be home for a while. She and her friends had left hours ago in a haze of perfume and taffeta, all smiles and giggles as they headed of to their graduation party. They had suspected them to be out until late, if not the small hours of the morning, and Mo and Resa had taken the opportunity to make some time for themselves, heading into town for what Mo had promised to be a wonderfully romantic night.

"Meggie?" He called softly, leaning heavily on the banister.

She didn't answer him and he stared at the top of the stairs darkly before he heaved himself up the first step, his feet bare and pattering on the polished wood.

The short hallway was dark as he approached her pale wooden door and he hesitated for a moment, wondering if he'd heard wrong, that maybe he'd actually heard something from outside. He knocked regardless, eyeing the pink and glitter name plaque that her mother had bought as a joke the year before, no doubt the deep, dark relic of her desire to capture something of the years she'd missed out on watching her daughter grow up.

He heard a soft sound from behind the door, one that could have been either assent or a muffled request to go away. But he took the chance and leant on the handle, the door swinging open with ease.

"Meggie?"

She stood in front of her mirror, her hands busy with the grips in her hair, pulling them loose and tossing them onto her make up table. She flashed him a breezy smile, a casual 'Hey', but he could see right through her nonchalance, could read the stiffness in her movements, the redness of her eyes.

"What's wrong?" He asked, his eyes on her hands as they tugged at her hair, hand slipping from the door handle.

"Oh, nothing." She smiled briefly, shaking her head. "just came back early, that's all."

He wasn't good at a lot of things, but he was good at reading people, at listening to the timbre of someone's voice and knowing when they lied. He recalled many a time when Mo had dragged him into the living room, his face expectant as he forced him into listening to one of Meggie's stories, waiting with a barely controlled patience for Dustfinger's judgement, obviously uncomfortable that he could read his daughter better than he could. His decision usually depended on who had recently earned his favour, but lately he had found himself winking slyly and telling Mo that she was telling the truth, her faithful ally in covering up late night parties and sneaking out the house when grounded. It wasn't anything he could really call a gift, but it certainly had it uses.

"You know I can tell when you're lying." He said softly, very aware of how easily she could be antagonised.

She huffed, glaring in the reflection of the mirror at the knot of hair that had gathered around the beaded clip. "Not now Dustfinger, okay?" Her voice sounded thick and she let out a low growl, angling her head to better see the mess she'd made.

"Wait, wait…here." He rushed forward when she made to rip the clip from her hair, pulling away her hands and gently untangling the knot that she had made.

He stared at her reflection, at her down turned eyes and the rush of colour on her cheeks, the residual affects that spoke of indignant anger. "Meggie?"

"Please don't." She whispered, meeting his eyes in the mirror. She didn't sound angry, more tired than anything. Her shoulders fell and she dropped her gaze, flickering briefly as he drew his fingers through her hair, smoothing out the knots. He simply stood for a moment, staring at his hand as it came to rest between her shoulders, flattening out the curls that she had put in her hair.

Truth be told, he was glad she was back, not because he didn't want her to have her freedom, or because of the harrowing possessiveness that came with the heart thumping awareness that he felt things for her he really shouldn't. It was because of the look in her dates eye when he had come to pick her up, dark and roving as he'd raked his gaze over her body, so wonderfully wrapped in the most beautiful dress Dustfinger had ever seen.

Was it jealousy to want to punch the lascivious smirk off someone's face?

He was nudged from his thoughts when she poked at his arm, her hairbrush in hand. He smiled softly in the face of her hangdog expression, taking the brush from her as she walked over to the windowsill, perching on the wide spread of cushions and aiming her tired gaze out the window. It used to be one of their little traditions, back in the days when he still roamed the country, called away by the songs of the stars until his wanderlust was slaked. He would have barely made it through the door before she would pull on his sleeve, leading him over to the chair in front of the fire where she would sit before him, eyes closed as he talked to her parents, telling them stories of the road as he brushed her hair. He didn't know where it had come from, especially with her mother sat across from them and more than willing to see to her unruly curls. But she always chose him, and in some way he felt a perverse sense of pleasure when on her seventeenth birthday she had folded her arms on his lap, smiling peacefully as he smoothed his fingers through her hair, muttering at him to keep going long after every one else had gone to bed.

He sat behind her carefully, noting how the cool slice of moonlight that poured in through the window made her hair shine like silver, her skin white. He tried to ignore her sigh of content when he drew her hair back, the heat of her skin as he purposely avoided brushing his fingers against her neck.

The brush felt heavy in his hand as he raised it, gently pulling it through the blonde tumble of curls, catching briefly on small knots and kinks.

The minutes passed slowly, measured by the slow and even cadence of her breath, the occasional shiver running down her spine. It never used to be a problem for him, and if he were honest with himself he couldn't actually pin point when his thoughts had turned to something that would find him out on the street should Mo ever find out. But there was nothing Mo could say that he hadn't already said to himself.

"You didn't just come back early." He said quietly when she sighed again, pulling her knees up onto the bench seat. He didn't like to see her unhappy and it didn't take much to figure out that something had happened, he just wondered which of her friends had said something this time. She put up with a lot from them, having spent enough time trying to fit in after having been home schooled for so long, and she was so very different to them, her changing lifestyle and the pressures put on her from an early age making her more mature than her mercurial peers, it wouldn't be the first time one of them had made an off hand comment that had mortally offended her.

"It doesn't matter." She whispered, folding her arms on her knees as he let the brush fall, watching the shallow rise and fall of her shoulders.

"It does when it looks like you walked home crying." He told her, the faintest hint of tension in his voice. Her shoulders tensed, fingers tight on her own arms, the silence that followed his words flowing out from the shadows that clustered in the corners of the room.

"Look, I just…" She stood suddenly, her dress settling with a soft sound. "I had a bad night is all."

She didn't meet his eye, and he knew then that she was lying to him. She never lied to him.

"What happened?" He didn't like the way she turned her face from him, holding herself as though to stay warm. She looked as though she would speak, mouth opening and closing as she thought of words one moment and discarded them the next.

He watched her carefully, her swaying movements as she moved back and forth, his eyes on her hands which trembled faintly against her arms in the cool moonlight, taking in everything about her until finally he saw it, couldn't understand how he had missed it before.

"What's this?" He took her arm in his hand as he stood, concern etched into his face as he stared at the smudge of colour beneath her skin, the faint but distinct pattern of someone's handprint wrapped around her arm. She stilled, breath frozen as she looked at the bruises under his scrutiny.

"It's nothing." She said, her breath tremulous and shaking as he bent closer to inspect the marks, noticing that they weren't the only ones. He turned her sharply, making it so the light from her floor lamp lit her skin and showed off the darkening patches on her skin, some still red, still recent.

He felt a sick rage building in his chest. "What happened?"

"Nothing." It was almost like she was pleading for him to believe her, but he knew her better than most.

"What happened?" He demanded again, soft words contradicting exactly how he felt.

"It's nothing…nothing bad, okay." She tried to turn out of his grasp, but he held her still.

"Nothing bad?" He almost laughed. "Where did you get these bruises?"

She looked as though she would cry, and he felt a tug in his chest for having spoken roughly, a sinking ache in his heart as she shook her head. "Don't, please don't." Her words breaking as they fell from her lips.

"Don't what?" He breathed, his hand beneath her chin so she would look him in the eye, the shimmer of her tears glittering in the dim light.

She breathed raggedly, closing her eyes as one shaking word tumbled across her lips and broke his heart. "Care."

It was a bitter sweet agony to see her cry, to know that she hurt. But she was never so beautiful as she was when the light caught the tears on her face, the pain in her eyes as she looked up at him.

"Tell me what happened Meggie." He asked her softly, turning his hand so he could hold her face, could feel his heart thump in his chest as she turned into his touch, something dark twisting in his veins when she rested her hand on his waist.

She bit at her lip, worrying it between her teeth, a frown marring her brow as her body seemed to shrink slightly. "I…" She stumbled over her words, trying to think of how to tell him. "I told him no." She said eventually, the devastating meaning of her words chilling him to the core.

"What…" The breath felt shallow in his lungs, eyes on her face, catching on the faintest of marks that highlighted her cheek. "Told who? …Meggie, did he hurt you?" The question brought forth the image of those dark eyes, the cocky smirk that had irked him. He'd hated the kid the moment he saw him, wanted to break the arm that he'd snuck around her waist as he'd promised Mo to keep his daughter safe.

"He, umm…"She shook, her fingers curling into his sweater, holding fast. "I don't know, I mean…I got out of the car, so…" She was mumbling.

He couldn't remember the last time he'd seen red, had wanted to rip the throat from someone, and he knew it was only because he needed to be here that stopped him from searching the streets until he found him. "What did he do?" His heart felt leaden in his chest, he didn't think he even wanted to know, couldn't stand the thought that someone had inflicted her pain.

She looked so lost, so frightened. "He…he wanted to, you know." She blushed, dropping her eyes to where her hand was twined into his jumper. "But I said no…" She sniffed loudly and he felt the unmistakable dampness of tears soaking his hand where he held her face. "I said no, but he kept going."

"Oh god, please Meggie," He could barely breath, "Please tell me he didn't…"

"No." She rebutted him strongly and he felt his heart beat again at her vehemence, "No, I, uh….I hit him then."

He felt his breath rush from him in a laugh, the sick, sharp panic bursting forth in one relieved breath.

He'd never been more proud of her than in that moment, wanting to crush her to his chest, to hold her close and protect her, to never let her come to harm. "Oh Meggie…" He slid his hand to the back of her neck and she didn't resist when he pulled her close, holding her tight, his arms surrounding her as she started to cry, her body trembling, rocking against his. He rested his cheek on her hair, pressing his eyes closed and trying to rid the images from his mind, of rough hands sliding up her thigh, grasping and rough on her waist, holding her down as she struggled. If he saw him….well, it wasn't worth thinking of.

"It's not that I wasn't ready." She mumbled, the words muffled against his chest and he drew back slightly to hear her. "It's just I didn't want it to be him, I told him I didn't like him." She swallowed roughly, holding back her tears. "I think that's why he got angry."

He would have spoken, to tell her sternly that nothing she said could make any of this her fault, but she cut him off when he would have spoken, something cautious and halting in the way she talked. "He's one of the most popular guys, everyone said I was so lucky he'd asked me to go with him." She refused to meet his eye when he tried to see her face, "I think he thought I would jump at the chance," She shuddered slightly, and he hated to think she was remembering his hands on her. "He didn't believe me when I told him I didn't fancy him, that I liked…." She sighed heavily, such devastation in that one breath. "That I like someone else."

It was almost as painful to hear those words as it was to know that some insolent kid had tried to have his way with her. He bit down on his cheek to stop the inevitable crushing sensation that her admission would cause. This wasn't about him now, this was about her.

"Don't excuse him Meggie, it doesn't matter what your reason was, he was wrong. He will always be wrong." He pulled her face up, thumb tracing across the light bruise that marred her cheek, berating himself when she flinched under the gentle pressure. "You did the right thing." He tried to smile, but it wouldn't come.

"What, you mean hitting him?"

He did laugh then, "Well, yes, but making sure you came home safe is more important." He brushed the hair from her eyes, still soft and shining from where he'd brushed it. She nodded, something hidden in her eyes.

"I'm glad you were here." She told him softly, releasing his jumper from her tight grip and smoothing her hand over the creases she'd caused, eliciting a thrill that ran through his body. He didn't even want to think of what would happen when Mo got home.

"I'll be here whenever you need me." He told her, pouring out his honesty into those words, realising that nothing had ever been easier to say.

She smiled faintly, something tight about the gesture and she seemed on the verge of saying something, suddenly folding her arms again, an oddly protective gesture considering that she had held herself open up until now. "And what about when I don't need you?" She asked quietly, looking up when he frowned down at her, unable to hide his confusion. "Will you still be here?"

"I'll always be here." He reassured her. "Just call my name, and I'll come." He really shouldn't feel the pang of desire those words caused.

She smiled, something genuinely happy, and Dustfinger prided himself in that moment for being able to raise her spirits enough for her to beam up at him. But the expression was quickly replaced by something more troubled, fleeting glances diverting her gaze to where his hand was held gently against her arm, a warm band on her chilled skin. "If I told you something, and it was completely out of line, would you forget I ever said anything?" She looked at him now with a pained hope, something so earnest and desperate he could no sooner deny her than forget to breath.

"You can tell me anything, you always have." He reminded her.

"I know, but this is something I've been so afraid of saying, because I didn't want it to ruin anything." She bit at her lip again.

"Meggie…?" He could have gone on, could have told her that no matter what she said he would always be there for her, would always open his arms to her, if she needed him he would do everything in his power to reach her…

"It's you."

Her simple, quiet statement interrupted his thoughts, grinding them to a halt as he stared at her, at the apprehension in her eyes. "What?"

"It's you." She repeated, her voice wavering the second time round. "When I told him I liked someone else, I was…I was talking about…you." She dropped her gaze, staring resolutely at her arms where they were folded across her chest, her cheeks aflame. "I'm sorry if that's inappropriate." She muttered quietly.

He felt like he was falling.

The sudden rush of blood around his body made it hard to breath, heart frantic in his chest as he repeated her words in his mind, such beautifully sweet words that he'd never thought he'd hear, never deserved to hear. He almost shook his head. Refusing to believe her, but she stood before him, her eyes downcast as she waited for his judgment, her skin warm beneath his touch, suddenly more thrilling than just a moment ago.

She was speaking, her words lost on him, something about 'never mind' and 'forget I said anything', and suddenly he was kissing her, had drawn her face up and brushed his lips over hers, capturing the soft gasp of anticipation and surprise, waiting those few precious moments for her to regain her composure before she opened up beneath him, such soft warmth and depth, her tongue meeting his as she whimpered softly, the sound making the low pool of his arousal flare and ignite. Her hand was on his chest, firm as she ran her fingers upwards, an aching perfection in the way she caressed the back of his neck, pulling him down, closer, deeper, and his own hands answered, pressed with repressed longing to the small of her back, dragging her up against him, the silk beneath his hand nothing compared to the feel of her skin, her velveteen warmth as he drew his hand from her arm and pushed it into her hair with a fervour that was felt in his kiss, making her sigh against him, holding her in a fierce yet gentle grip as he kissed her.

His mind was screaming at him, it was so wrong, so very wrong in so many ways, but he couldn't help himself when she leaned into him like that, her body arching as she draped her arms round his neck and his hands were free to smooth up the length of her back, her body fitting perfectly in the circle of his arms.

He pulled away with what he thought a heroic effort, pushing her back with his hands against her shoulders when he realised he had somehow ended up pressed to the uncomfortable shape of one of the struts on her four post bed. He swallowed roughly, wishing he had waited just another moment to open his eyes, then he wouldn't have seen her in the wake of new passion, her face upturned, lips pink and glistening in the shallow light, the dusky haze of arousal that clouded her eyes as she held his.

Could he say it? Was he really strong enough to say no? to ignore the heat of her hands as they wandered down across his chest, her fingers seeking out a new path as she snuck her arms around his waist, dipping lower until she could run them smooth and deft beneath his clothes, just one glorious inch consumed by her burning touch as she dragged her nails across his back, his hands useless as she pulled herself back against him, her curves soft and warm against the hard steel of his body. It was only for this moment that he gave in, his eyes closed as she rubbed up against him, a delicious friction heating the space between them at the same moment she fastened her lips to his neck, immediately finding the sweet spot near his shoulder that made his knees weak and tremble, the smouldering embers that had heated his desire to flourish and flare into a full on blaze.

"We really shouldn't be doing this." He ground out, not even recognising his own voice under her far from innocent attentions.

"You don't want to?" Her breath melted hotly into his skin, followed by the slick heat of her tongue as she licked and bit as his neck, making him shiver, his hands clutching at her shoulders and forcing her back, holding her stiffly as he breathed raggedly, clawing back his composure.

He couldn't look at her now, because to look at her with her dark eyes and sultry stare would have turned his restraint into indulgence. "Meggie, we can't…." He sighed weakly, ignoring the thundering beat of his heart, or the way her hand curled around his wrist, the confusion and hurt on her face that swam in the periphery of his vision.

"Why?" She sounded just as undone as he felt. She made to step forward, but he held her fast. "I'm eighteen." She told him, the slightest whisper of petulance colouring her words.

"And I'm thirty four!" He said sharply.

"What does that matter?" She demanded, he was about to mention that she was the one who brought it up when he realised she hadn't been pointing out the obvious gulf between their ages, but merely mentioning that she was perfectly capable of making her own decisions, would have to seek no one's permission. That thought alone was a severe test of his resolve.

"It's wrong." He whispered, ducking his head to avoid her gaze, trying to hide the true emotion in his eyes.

"Why?" She sounded much closer now and indeed he was surprised when he realised he had dropped his arms, allowing her to step back into the heated air around him.

He smothered a self deprecating laugh, tempted to roll his eyes at her naivety, "So many reasons." He breathed. He leant heavily against the bed post, trying to control the fire that raged within him.

He felt the silence more than he could hear it, the pressure and tension rolling off her in waves and it seemed to him as though the room grew darker somehow. "Are any of them important?" She asked him quietly, her voice calm and measured.

He met her eye, something cool and serious layered in their cold blue depth. "It depends on whether your father is actually willing to beat a man to death." His attempt at levity fell on deaf ears, and he was idly comforted by the thought that he wouldn't be first in line for Mo's ire, there was still the matter of the cock sure prom king. He sighed and rubbed tiredly at his eyes, wishing that the dark smudges that marked her skin were just the product of his overworked mind, spots of colour that drifted before his eyes. "Look Meggie," He said softly, "You've been through something terrible tonight, and I can understand that the idea of….comfort, after something like…"

"You act as if I don't want this." She interrupted him with soft disbelief, "That I haven't thought about this for years." She paused, her breathing hitched. "That I haven't dreamt of you."

He felt shaken by the fierceness in her eyes that accompanied her admission, the blush rising prettily on her cheeks as he stared at her, eyes wide and breath shallow. She couldn't know what she was saying. "Meggie….you're young…."

"And I've been thinking about you for years."

He felt the breath stripped from his lungs, his carefully thought out argument dying on his lips as she blurted out her confession, his hands frozen in mid air.

"Every day." She whispered, a beautiful vulnerability to her assertion as she forced herself to keep his unbelieving gaze, the tremble of her lips, her breath unsteady as she pushed herself up on to tip toes, her hands resting on his chest. "Every night." Breathed across his lips. Her bravado an ineffectual front for the innocent naivety that made her tremble as she slowly pressed her lips to his.

It was useless even trying to deny her, to deny himself, not when she pressed herself to him so sweetly, her hand on his face, fingertips shaking as they traced his cheek, soft and sweet down his throat then suddenly hard as they twisted into his soft wool of his sweater.

She was perfection under his hands, her body warm beneath the layers of silk, not the cheap shiny impersonation that every other girl wore, but the real thing, soft and almost weightless until it was held tight with ribbons around her waist. Her breath trembled, fluttering across his lips as he hooked his thumb beneath one of the tightly knotted bows. She met his eyes, dark and determined in the face of his hesitation, unable to truly bring himself to believe she actually wanted this, with him. She leant heavily against him, her lips touched to where his pulse raced beneath his skin as she drew her hand back, meeting his where his fingers were laced into the ribbon that wrapped around her. She pulled deftly and they unwound with a whispering sound, loose now so that when she stepped back the layers of soft ivory fell from her body, pooling at her feet and leaving her exposed, knocking the breath from his lungs.

Shocked wasn't the word, that she could stand before him both unashamed and demure, her eyes only on his face as he felt his own inexorably drawing up the length of her body, memorising every curve, every soft shadow. He felt himself flinch at every mark on her skin, the dark bruises littering all the wonderful places his hands itched to touch. He felt the growl low in his throat, knew his eyes had darkened by the look on her face, her eyes bright, lips trembling as though she were waiting for him to judge her.

"Beautiful." He said quietly, smiling gently despite the quiet rage that burnt in his veins, reaching out so that his fingers could drift against her cheek, through the soft curl of her hair. "So beautiful," quiet words as he leant forward and held her lips with his, her arms around his waist as he spoke softly into the kiss. "Promise me you're sure."

"I'm sure." She whispered, voice shaking even as she said it. "I don't want the last touch I know to be…" She couldn't finish, bit at her lip instead and forced herself to meet his eyes, to convince him with the truth in her stare that she wanted this, wanted him, for more than just his ability to wipe away the hurt. "Please." all her desperation and desire in that one aching word.

He felt a heady rush as he swept her up in his arms, turning her easily and dropping her lightly onto the bed, her beautiful laugh bubbling up through her nervousness in the most endearing way, making his heart flutter as she pushed herself further back up the bed, watching him with a dark and steady gaze as with slow and deliberate movements he pulled off his clothes, feeling an electric thrill everywhere her eyes met his heated flesh.

Her body was warm, soft beneath his as her hands reached out to him and pulled him down, her skin like silk under his touch and he gasped at the feel of them pressed so wonderfully close , like the most exotic of his dreams come to fruition, and when she kissed him she set his heart on fire, matching the blazing trails her fingers made across his back, the heat of her legs as they wrapped around his, the exquisite, absolving flames that she stoked into a blessed inferno that raged through him.

She sighed softly, body rocking up into his as he kissed her neck, pressing his face to the feel of her pulse racing beneath her skin, her hands in his hair, pulling it back so she could see his face as his lips travelled down across her chest, pausing at every dark smudge to gently kiss away the pain and the hurt, the betrayal. Something dark and feral clawed at his chest when she threw her head back, his name falling from her lips in reverential prayer, and it was all he could do to keep his kisses slow, to let his hands slide with worship over her skin, even though he burned for her, an intolerable ache inside him as he reached the delicate lace edge of her underwear, the one insubstantial barrier between them. He tried to ignore the marks that highlighted the delicate curve of her hips, the soft flesh on the inside of her thigh, focusing instead on the rushed and whimpered breaths that escaped from between her lips, insensible words whispered as he grazed his teeth across her silken skin.

She was glorious in her pleasure, when he finally drew the soft lace down over her hips, fingers drawing lazy patterns up her thigh, unending circles that drew closer and closer, her breath hitching and a soft moan drifting from her lips as the roll of her hips met with the firm press of his hand, each minute movement an eternal ecstasy under his fingers, with her eyes closed and her hair strewn around her face as she breathed his name, whispered pleas for more.

He didn't ask her now if she were sure, could read her assent in the tightening of her hands in his hair, the hunger of her kiss and the darkening of her eyes as slowly, inch by inch, he stripped her of her innocence, swallowing roughly and pressing his face into her neck at the feel of her body hot and tight around him. Her breath was hot and loud in his ear, her muted cries both pained and elated as he moved, a steady, even pace that he knew wouldn't last, couldn't possibly last when she moved against him like that, her body arching up into every slow and heated stroke, the friction driving them both into a heightened frenzy until he ran his hand down the gentle curve of her waist, fumbling between them, thumb sliding in the slick heat down toward where they were joined until he could press down just _there, _and she cried out, her anguished ecstasy pouring into his open and gasping mouth, captured in the fervour of his kiss as she grasped at him, unable to find enough purchase on his sweat slicked skin as she moaned, throwing her head back as she tightened around him, the explosive force of her release pulling him forcefully with her over the edge. A white heat poured through him, blinding him and reducing the world to ashes around him, his lips forming the pattern of her name and pressing them into her skin, forcing himself not to bite down on the soft flesh under his mouth.

He could barely breath, chest heaving in time with hers, the combined beat of their hearts rocking them as they held on to one another, eyes closed and breathing in the scent of them both combined, the heady scent of sweat and sex cloying in the heated air. She held him tight when he made to draw back, sighing with relished content beneath his solid weight, soft kisses dropped to his shoulder as he pressed his own into her hair. He waited for the guilt, for the shame and regret that should inevitably course through him with an ugly chill, but he couldn't find it within himself to feel the depravation he should, still joined with her, her arms tight around his waist and her slowing breaths brushing like feathers across his skin.

"Fuck." Meggie muttered succinctly, eloquently summing up her satiation, her breathless exclamation shared in his enthusiastic sigh, his hidden smile.

"Exactly." He whispered, feeling her body shake beneath him as she silently laughed.

They lay in silence for a while, a boneless fatigue settling in their limbs as breath by breath their hearts slowed, the air feeling cold on their skin until it finally made him pull back, dragging up the blanket from the end of the bed, drawing it over her trembling body as he crawled off the bed, groping for his jeans that lay crumpled on the floor.

"You're going?" Her softly spoken question caused him to look up, pausing momentarily as he closed the buttons around his hips. Her face was hidden in a shadow but he could hear the devastation in her words.

"No." He shook his head with vehemence. "I'm not going anywhere." He settled back onto the bed. "I'd just rather not be caught unaware when your parents get back." He smiled, not daring to imagine the scene that could have transpired had they returned just five minutes ago, let alone now.

She laughed shortly and cocked her head, conceding the point. He couldn't help but notice the fresh tense anxiety that tightened her shoulders, brought about by the sudden distance between them, with the line very much crossed. "Come here." He motioned her over as he moved up the bed, leaning back against the headboard as she approached him, holding the blanket tight around her, her eyes wide and fearful until he drew her down against his side, tucking her head beneath his chin, her hair soft and tickling on his chest. "Are you alright?" He asked her softly, drawing his fingers through her hair, aware that this was a big thing for her, for any girl.

He felt her nod, a soft sigh and then, "Yeah." her hand drifted out across his chest, flattening out and running down to rest on his stomach. "Perfect."

There was an odd timbre to her voice, something quiet and reserved, her arm tense when he ran his hand over her soft skin. "What's wrong?" sudden apprehension in his chest.

"It's nothing." She said softly, and he knew immediately that it was far from nothing.

He hooked his fingers beneath her chin, lifting her face and forcing her to meet his eye, he didn't speak, merely raised his brow until she spoke, letting her know that he could see straight through her defences. "I just….I can't help but wonder where we go from here." She said it softly, with no judgement or expectations, and her eyes were clear, unclouded and heartbreakingly accepting of whatever it was she thought he might say.

He released his hold, pressing a kiss to her head and muttering quietly. "Don't you worry about that. I doubt your dad will be none to pleased, but there's nothing to say he needs to find out." He could feel her smile against his skin, and he felt his own spread across his face, feeling a happiness and a peace he hadn't felt in years. So what if they would have to sneak around, snatching moments in the quiet confines of darkened rooms, waiting until the house was silent until they could creep around, sidestepping creaking floorboards so that they could hold one another in the soft darkness of the night. It would be worth it, every stolen kiss, every minute touch would be an unadulterated thrill. He could hardly wait.

And it all started here, this breathtakingly perfect night, made only more complete when she curled up against him, relaxing into the circle of his arms, sighing softly with every gentle kiss that he placed against her skin.

* * *

When Mo and Resa came back they found him sitting in the same chair he'd been occupying when they'd left, still playing with the flames between his fingers. He explained that Meggie had come back early but left it at that, letting them knock on her door and find out the reason for themselves. Mo's fury nearly shook the house, and it was only with the combined effort of all three of them that they managed to restrain him from racing out into the night and kicking down each and every door until he found him.

It was probably a good thing he wasn't at home the next day either when the doorbell rang and Dustfinger could here Meggie's usually soft and understated tone become hard. He probably would have done a lot more than punch him in the face, knocking him backwards off the porch until he rolled into the rose hedge, he probably wouldn't have stopped at Meggie's insistent hand on his chest, her eyes wide and pleading, telling him to just let it go, that her simple and thorough destruction of his reputation would be enough. He certainly wouldn't have been pulled back into the house, the door slammed with contempt before his hand was taken up, her lips soft as she kissed the sudden swelling of his knuckles, red from where they had effectively smashed the irksome smirk from his face as he'd tried to convince her that she was just uptight and that maybe they should give it another go.

He definitely wouldn't have received that look, the one that burnt in his veins, made his chest ache until she beckoned him to follow her upstairs, his eyes on the swaying of her hips, the hunger in her gaze as he followed her, abandoning all reason as they fell down into the mess of sheets and blankets, the world around them lost in the reawakening of senses, of kisses and caresses, dutifully restrained gasps and cries of passion, and quiet attestations of love.


	2. Chapter 2

Meggie glanced at her father, his normally calm and passive face tight with a nervous disquiet, his hands spinning a model of the stomach on the smooth desktop. Meggie flashed him a brief and pained smile, trying not to wince at the sharp pain that stabbed at her side, knees bent as she lay on her back.

She'd been helping out at the school over the summer, trying to build up some skills to put on her resume, and she'd been looking forward to enjoying the last few days of the summer when she'd felt the pain start, gradually growing throughout the day until she finally conceded and went to see the nurse who phoned Mo who promptly picked her up, the diagnosis of appendicitis making her already thready pulse echo weakly in her veins.

It was a long and uncomfortable drive to the hospital, with Mo trying to avoid every small pothole and bump in the road, constantly dialling the phone and trying to get through to Resa, her mobile and the house phone ringing of the hook, messages left after every beep. She'd told him she was fine, not to panic, but it was useless telling a father not to worry about his child.

The nurse at the hospital was kind, smiling at her as she poked and prodded, making Meggie gasp and wince as Mo paced back and forth at her bedside. A plethora of notes, and blood tests, pressures monitored, pulses taken and the necessary questions before he finally reached the house, rushing out a quick explanation to Dustfinger who happened to be closest to the phone at the time, and he hung up with the news that they were all on their way.

Farid had finally come back from his long and meandering journey across the states, having hitchhiked all the way to the coast and back in an effort to 'find himself', a concept he'd learnt from a multitude of chick flicks, an interest he'd developed and nurtured with an almost worrying enthusiasm, often garnering him many an raised eyebrow when they found him crossed leg in front of the TV.

As much as she loved Farid, his happy face and easy laugh, his coming back had almost thoroughly put an end to her and Dustfinger seeing each other. The fact that they shared their room meant that there could be no sneaking around, no snatching moments in the dark of the night. Farid had glued himself to Dustfinger's side, would meander off to find him if he was out of sight too long, and neither of them could really say anything to stop him from doing so, just the thought of his puppy dog eyes was enough to stop them from saying anything to him. Besides, it wasn't yet worth incurring the wrath of her father, and the less suspicion raised the better.

That wasn't to say they had given up on each other, if anything the enforced secrecy made the dull burning force of their need for each other burn all the brighter, those few moments they the gleaned in the rare instances when the rest of the household was distracted made the taste of his lips all the sweeter, the feel of his hand resting against her back an intoxicating drug that would make her feel giddy for the rest of the day. The rest of their interaction passed by with heated glances and suppressed smiles, with secret touches and sly whispers breathed lowly and designed to make the other blush.

She was almost glad that she spent her days at the school, if only to keep her from the house and distract her from the aching longing she felt for him. Some days she cursed the fact that her parents didn't have normal jobs, that there was always one of them in the house, and that Farid took up all of his time. But it had been almost worth it, the slow and unreleased tension that built between them finally bursting free when they had been left alone, the others piling into the car to go grocery shopping and leaving them with a wave and a 'be back soon'. The car had barely pulled out of the end of the drive before they had met each other's eyes, dark and heated, lips hungry in the wake of their sudden kiss, hands tearing at each other's clothes, pulling them away just enough for him to press her against the wall, taking her with a barely restrained passion, breath hot on her neck and hand over her mouth as she cried out, her nails raking his back and tangling painfully in his hair.

But that had been weeks ago, and their brief time together had only served to further fan the flames. Her hands had started to itch every time she saw him, dying to feel him under her touch, steel body and velvet skin, laying awake at night with the remembrance of the tips of his fingers burning on her skin.

More than once she had entertained the thought of simply telling Mo how she felt, because some days she really thought the inevitable shitstorm would be worth the freedom to simply admit that she loved him.

But she put those thoughts aside, although now would have been the perfect time to say something, he couldn't possibly shout at her when she lay pale and shaking, curled up on the uncomfortable examination bed waiting for the doctor to see them.

He arrived at the same time as the others, her mother nearly running him down in the doorway as she rushed over to clutch at her hand, holding it tight and muttering in a pained whine as she smoothed the hair away from her face.

"I'm fine." She said, exasperated at the level of fuss. "I'm sure they'll get me fixed." She wanted to smile, but it came out as more of a pained grimace and did nothing to alleviate Resa's concern. She shook her hand from her mother's frantic grip and caught Dustfinger's pale gaze, his eyes wide and fixated on her face.

"Meggie, is it?" The doctor stepped between them, and for a moment she strained to look around him to hold the grounding gaze.

"Yes." She muttered weekly, swallowing around the strain in her voice and watching him as he turned page over page on the clip board. She heard Farid pipe up from the back of the room, and Resa's furiously whispered admonition.

"Okay." He glanced up at her, his eyes flicking with a reticent expression towards Mo who had lain his hand on her shoulder. "We're just waiting for you're blood tests to come back, they won't be long at all now, and I'm looking at the observation notes here…" he paused and frowned. "I just want to check something over before we book you in for a surgical consult, so could you just lay back and let your legs lie flat." He dropped the clipboard onto the locker and waited for Meggie to make herself as comfortable as she could before he pressed his fingers to her stomach, barely a hint of concern when she hissed. "Do you have any transference pain at all?"

"What's that?" Sibilant words through gritted teeth.

"Pain where you don't expect it to be, does it hurt anywhere other than where I press?" He sunk his fingers into a particularly painful spot.

"Ow." She glared at him until he raised his eyebrow at her, still expecting an answer. "My shoulder kind of hurts, but only when I lie down, it's only been like that since my side started to hurt, dunno if that's what you mean."

The doctor frowned anew and leaned over to look at the hastily scribbled notes. He went through several other motions, making her twist and turn, raise her knee, all the while asking exactly where it hurt. His less that gentle ministrations left her breathless as he muttered and added his own illegible scribbles, excusing himself for a minute.

"I don't like him." She muttered dryly, curling back onto her side as the others stepped closer.

"Appendicitis is a really hard thing to diagnose." Resa told her. "They've got to be sure honey."

"I know." She conceded easily, "I just find it hard to believe they're legally allowed to inflict that amount of pain on someone."

"Well, they won't be long." Mo uttered quietly. "This isn't something they hang around on."

"What is appeni…thing?" Farid asked softly, standing awkwardly as though he felt he were in the way.

Mo struggled for a moment for a satisfactory explanation. "It's a part of the body, inside, that can pick up an infection. Usually it's dealt with quickly, but sometimes it can be extremely dangerous."

"Thanks for that." Meggie muttered dryly, her sharp intake of breath this time more to do with the gentle heat of Dustfinger's hand as he rested it on her leg, just above her knee where her skin wasn't quite covered by her shorts. She felt the heat rise in her cheeks as his thumb moved in a slow and gentle motion, smoothing over her skin in the most wonderfully distracting way and channelling his trembling anxiety through his touch.

"Dangerous?" He whispered quietly, and for a moment Meggie wished Mo hadn't said anything at all, nothing that would reduce that wonderful voice to ashes. She met his eyes, wanting to kiss away the worry on his face.

"Only if it's left untreated." Mo stressed quickly, but it wasn't enough to stop the fine tremor that vibrated through his hand.

Meggie was about to tell him to shut up but the door opened, the doctor returning with the wonderfully sympathetic nurse and a disconcerted look upon his face that only grew more perturbed when greeted with the combined weight of all their stares. He coughed lightly and held the clipboard tightly in his hands. "Miss Folchart…Meggie." He corrected himself. "We just have one more test, so I'm going to have to ask you all to just step outside for a few minutes." He held his arm open, gesturing to the open door.

"Maybe I should stay." Resa worried her lip between her teeth.

"It won't take long at all." The nurse told her matter of factly, already ushering them out with waving arms and Meggie felt an obscure sense of loss when she felt his hand slide from her leg, her skin cold from the loss of his warmth. "We'll be done in no time."

Resa looked like she wanted to rebuke her, but one quick look at Meggie's impassive face and she followed the others out into the stark and sterile corridor, the door clicking shut behind them. "Now Meggie, we've had your bloods back." He shifted on his feet and she wasn't quite at ease with the suddenly compassionate look on his face, or the way the nurse stood idly at the side of her bed. "I'm afraid we have to discount appendicitis, your pain transference doesn't sit with the model, and the results of your blood tests show that it's almost certainly likely that you're suffering from an ectopic pregnancy."

She blinked.

A moment of completely mind blanking shock.

"What?" it seemed that for a moment the pain had left her, lost in the wake of the sudden numb confusion.

The doctor sighed and looked at the nurse quickly. "Your tests confirm that you're in the early stages of pregnancy, the hormone levels put it somewhere in the second half of the first trimester." He spoke lowly and calmly, could no doubt see the harrowing look on her face. "The pain you feel, both in your side and in your shoulder are both indicators of this." He paused for a moment, sucking in a deep breath. "Now this is something very serious, I've already…"

"I'm pregnant?" She interrupted, her mouth finally catching up with her furiously working mind, words trembling on her lips.

"An ectopic pregnancy." The doctor stressed again. "I gathered from your notes that you may have been unaware. I asked your family to give us a moment in case it was a sensitive issue to you, but I'm afraid that we will have to go ahead with a surgery as your symptoms do indicate a measure of internal bleeding." He said softly, his gentle tone contradicting the brutality of his words. "I've already paged for a surgical consult, and we should be able to get you in to theatre very soon."

Meggie frowned, "But I'm pregnant." She whispered, disbelief still evident in her voice..

"Meggie." The nurse touched her arm lightly. "Ectopic pregnancies aren't really pregnancies, there's no way for a foetus to develop. Usually the body rejects the embryo, but in some cases growth can happen to a degree where it can cause damage to the body." She had a genuinely reassuring smile on her face. "Don't try to think of it as a loss."

"A loss?" Meggie's lips felt dry. "I didn't even know, I thought you were supposed to feel sick and stuff." She looked up at the doctor.

"Everyone's different." He shrugged lightly in way of explanation. "Symptoms can vary wildly from person to person."

It felt as though the ground were moving beneath her, that the room was suddenly devoid of light and the air around them cold. More than anything, she felt stupid. She heard the doctor saying that she would need to be prepped for surgery, that she would have to change out of her clothes and even though she nodded her head, she wasn't listening. She could think only think of the small gathering outside the door, what would they say, what they would think of her. What would her father do.

She felt sick, a horrible dread welling up within her and her face must have paled because just as she retched there was a paper bowl beneath her face, the nurses hand scooping back her hair as she was sick, soothing hushes and murmurs of distracting comfort. "Oh god." She breathed, wiping her mouth with the offered tissue. "He's gonna kill him." she shivered, rubbing her eyes with the back of her hand and trying to scrabble for the smallest glimpse of an excuse.

"By law, because you're over eighteen, we are unable to disclose any matters that you wish to be kept quiet." The doctor offered gently, "we won't speak to your parents about this if you don't want us to."

"I'm pretty sure they'll figure it out." Meggie stuttered, throwing her head back against the flat pillow.

"You were going into surgery anyway." The nurse supplied.

She shook her head, it was true she could say nothing, no one had to know anything, she could probably just pretend the doctor had never told her. But already she could feel the terrifying impact of his diagnosis, could feel the first stirring of an as yet unnamed emotion that would horrify her whenever she thought back to this day, the concept of knowing that for however brief a time, she had carried life before it was ripped from her in a chilling rush of events.

"Will they not be supportive?" She was asked, a soft woollen blanket finding itself over her shivering body.

"I think they'd be pretty pissed," Meggie whispered. She knew in her heart that while they would be disappointed, they wouldn't hold it against her for long, it wasn't as though she was fifteen. She was much more afraid of them finding out exactly who's it was.

"Only because they care, they're already worried about you." the nurse squeezed her arm gently through the blanket. "Is there anyone you want me to get? One of the other men maybe?"

Meggie gasped as a particularly painful wave of nausea washed through her, her hands clutching to her stomach as she groaned, rolling onto her side and feeling even more ill at the stark knowledge of what exactly was causing her pain. She desperately wanted to say yes, wanted more than anything right now for Dustfinger to hold her hand, to wipe the sudden tears from her face and tell her that everything would be okay. She felt the burning need to hear his voice, to see the reassurance in his eyes, she wanted him to look at her the way he had that night when she had first dared to kiss him, to let her hands drift over his wildly beating heart, that achingly wonderful night that was no doubt the cause for her current agony.

"I…" She choked, throat tight around her tears. It would raise too many eyebrows should she ask for him, and him alone. She shook her head, tugging her lip between her teeth and blinking furiously to keep her tears in check. "I think I'm just going to need a few minutes." he whispered.

"That's no problem honey. We need to get you into a gown now, and the consult will be on his way up." She said gently, snapping out a gown and moving down to the end of the bed to slip off her shoes.

She helped Meggie to undress, folding her clothes and sliding the gown on over her outstretched arms as best she could while she tried not to double over in pain. It felt as though everything was going so fast, her heart pounding in her chest with every gut wrenching stab of pain. Before she knew it the consult was at her bedside, taking notes and asking questions and working out exactly when she could be taken to theatre. His no nonsense approach frightened Meggie, cold and clinical and completely devoid of feeling, as though it didn't matter that the reason she cried was because of the once tentative dream she'd never hoped for was about to be extinguished under his knife, and she still didn't know if she could bring herself to tell the one person who truly mattered.

They let her parents back in when the orderlies came through, they held her hands and kissed her face as they started to wheel the bed through the door and Meggie felt a rising panic clawing at her throat. She looked up into their concerned faces, feeling like she was betraying them by not blurting out the truth, but when Dustfinger reached out to grasp at her hand, she held on tighter than she had with the others, her grip almost painful and her eyes filled with tears as she stared beseechingly up at him, begging him with her eyes to somehow make this alright. He frowned amid his worry, and she knew then that he was aware something was wrong, that she held a devastating secret within her tear bright eyes. He glanced back and forth between her and her parents, ignoring Farid's muttered concerns as he tried to read her, but all she could do was hold onto him, wishing that the kisses pressed to her hair, to her cheeks, were his, that they could have just one moment alone so she could let her guard down, to show her genuine fear and horror and beg him to just hold her. But the moment had come, and she whimpered as she felt his hand prised away from hers.


	3. Chapter 3

**This chapter hated me. Sorry if it sucks. x**

When she woke, a long and slow resurfacing from the dark, the pain was gone, replaced instead with an odd hollow ache, spreading throughout her body and settling with a sickening pain in her heart. For a while she had forgotten, was simply confused as to why she was surrounded by blinding florescent lights and beeping machines, wondering why her parents were at her bedside holding her hands with relieved smiles as her eyes flickered open. But as consciousness filtered through the fog, so came the full awareness of where she was and why, trying to twist her head until she could see him, could hold his eyes as he sat in the corner, Farid's head cushioned on his shoulder as he slept. Dustfinger smiled at her, soft and reassuring, calming her more than the attentions of her parents ever could.

Her awakening seemed to stir up a small whirlwind of activity, with a fresh wave of doctors and nurses bustling around the bed. They let her wake up fully before they convinced the others to leave the room under the pretence of another examination where they told her that they had encountered very little complication during surgery, but they had had to remove the damaged tube, and as a result she might find it harder to conceive in the future. Meggie had just nodded dumbly, letting the words wash over her as though they didn't belong to her, as though they were speaking to someone else. She convinced herself that it didn't really matter, that it somehow didn't apply to her and if she just pretended it never happened it would all go away. She started to wish she really had had appendicitis.

They let her go home the next day, it seemed like forever yet no time at all, and she was feeling more and more frustrated that her parents wouldn't leave her alone, wouldn't just give her five minutes with him so she could at least attempt to say something, so that when visiting hours ended she felt her heart tearing as he hovered in the doorway, looking at her with a barely restrained curiosity, dying to ask what it was she had been trying to tell him with her eyes. But Mo and Resa had been right there, and he knew her well enough not to ask when she clearly didn't want to say, not in front of them at least.

It was almost as bad when she got home, placed carefully in front of the TV with a short stack of books and her mother and father taking it in turns to keep her company. Dustfinger seemed to retreat somewhat, keeping himself away from the hot and stuffy living room. She watched him sometimes from the window, craning her neck as he taught Farid better ways to control the fire in this unstable world. She missed him terribly, the simple way he would throw himself down on the sofa next to her, the way the smile would reach his eyes when she talked about her day, the way the sofa was only just big enough for the both of them so no one ever second glanced at the way they sat so close, her leg pressed to his, head resting against the arm he draped along the back.

She wondered if he were avoiding her maybe, that somehow he had figured out what she wanted to say and he didn't want to hear it from her. It wasn't even as though she wanted to tell him, more that she needed to. It didn't even have anything to do with the fact that it had been his, she just desperately wanted the solace of the one person who had always been there for her, had never turned her away. More than anything she needed someone who wouldn't judge her, and he never had.

The only time she was left in peace was when the sun slowly dipped beneath the horizon, the night slowly drawing in and her father would see her to bed, unheeding of her protests that she was fine and was quite capable of climbing the stairs without him being constantly one step behind her. She'd never had a problem sleeping before, but her heart weighed heavy on her mind, trying to wrap around exactly what had happened. The nurse had given her a card with a phone number for a place she could call if she felt she needed to talk, but she still couldn't sum up her feelings enough to fully express them. 'Don't think of it as a loss', the nurse had told her. It couldn't really be classed as a loss, she knew that, especially because she had been completely unaware of the ridiculous mess she had gotten herself into. And how could she feel upset about something she never knew she had.

All insubstantial platitudes to try and convince herself that the darkness that hovered at the edges of her heart had nothing to do with the way she let her hand flutter over where the pain had ripped through her body, imagining what could have been.

It wasn't until a couple of days later that she finally managed to break free, a rare moment when both her parents were occupied in the workshop and she could slip unseen from the back door, soft footing her way across the back garden and slipping through the broken slats of the fence at the bottom. The grass tickled her feet as she walked, almost overjoyed at the feel of the soft breeze on her face, the heat of the sun on her uncovered skin as she meandered along the well walked path down to the small winding stream that ran through the dip in the land that her house lead down to. Her father had made her a swing a few years ago when she still believed in romantic love stories and thought it a fitting place for a young golden haired maiden to sit while she watched her prince throwing blades of fire into the night sky.

It was here she took the weight off her feet, body swaying on the weathered plank that hung unsteadily between the rough rope slung over the tree branch. She watched the pattern of dappled light shift over her feet as she gently moved back and forth, knowing that this little field of solitude would not hold her long, her parents would be after her as soon as they knew she was gone. So she enjoyed it while she could, listening to the sound of her own breath as she rested her head against the swing supports, watching the birds at the edge of the stream as they hopped closer and closer, trying to cool their wings without being swept away by the gentle torrent of water.

The soft movement of grass underfoot didn't come as a surprise to her and she briefly wandered how it had taken them this long to find her seeing as this would always be the first place she would come to. She only looked up when Dustfinger sat down in front of her, his eyes bright with reflected light as he looked up at her, something solemn in the lines of his face.

She sighed slowly, waiting for him to speak or for her own words to come, but they never did, and they sat in silence for what could have been an eternity, content enough with each others presence and yet fully aware of an undesirable tension that built between them like a wall, the longer she held her tongue the more she felt as though the moment were slipping away from her. It was like a war between head and heart, and it wasn't helped by his unguarded stare, open and trusting and simply waiting,. She felt what little resolve she had crumble as he rested his hand against her leg, brushing his fingers around her ankle and tracing them up one long smooth sweep as he pulled himself up from the grass, kneeling before her and taking her face in his hands, the softest brush of his lips against hers burning her from the inside. She couldn't help the way her hands trembled as her fingers curled gently around his neck, his skin warm beneath his hair as she breathed him in, sharing the air he breathed as he pulled her closer, her legs parting as he tugged gently on the swing, his body every thing she remembered, the same warmth, the same strength, the same small shiver that made him sigh against her lips as she ran her hands into his hair.

She had needed this, needed to feel that she could still incite the gentle strength in his hands as he framed her face, fingertips edging into her hair and wandering in slow patterns across her cheek, his thumb dragging across her the full swell of her lip, tugging her mouth open as he pressed his tongue against hers, long, slow and deep. She felt the tears form in her eyes, tumbling out from beneath closed lids to pour down her cheeks.

"Tell me what's wrong." He whispered, his breath warm against her skin as he kissed away her tears. There was no way he couldn't have noticed how she had withdrawn, that she held his eyes longer, her desire for him to hold her written in her shining gaze. Maybe it was why he had pulled himself away from her, maybe it hurt him to see her heartbroken and unable to do anything, to go to her, to kiss away her fear or take her in his arms when she was constantly being watched, when his own time was taken up by Farid and his puppy dog way of following him around. Even now they run a risk, kept from sight only by the trees that blocked them from view of the house, but she knew that even if her father rounded the corner, it would be worth it for the simple pleasure of his cheek pressed to hers, his arms holding her loosely as he pulled back to brush an errant strand of hair from her eyes. "What are these tears for?" He traced the glistening paths on her cheeks, following the path with his eyes as they fell fresh against his fingertips.

"It wasn't what they thought it was." She whispered, afraid that if she tried to speak she would choke. His eyes looked pain at seeing her hurt, watching her struggle to find the words she desperately needed to say. "It wasn't appendicitis…..not even close." She couldn't hold his eyes, not when he looked her at her like that.

"Meggie…?"

She sniffed, holding back her tears as she swallowed down her despondent misery. "I was pregnant."

His hands froze against her face, and she pressed her eyes closed so she wouldn't have to see the look in his eye. She couldn't bear it if he looked at all disappointed in her. It was an agonising moment before he spoke, and when he did he sounded frail, the shell of his former self. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"I didn't know." She stared down at her hands where they were slowly twisting into his shirt. He still hadn't let go of her face. "I only found out at the hospital, just before I went into surgery."

"God, Meggie." He whispered, his hands shaking as held them gently beneath her jaw, lifting her face so she met his stricken expression. "You should have…" he choked, a wildness in his eyes. "Oh darling, you could have told me." he surged up against her, tucking her head into his shoulder and holding her firm, containing her restrained sobs as she desperately tried not to lose the fragile supports that held up her resolve.

"I couldn't." her words were muffled against his skin. "I couldn't say a thing." her chest heaved and she felt the agony ready to burst forth. "They wouldn't leave me alone, and I was so frightened of what they would do."

"Shhh." He stroked his hand through her hair, brushing it from her cheek. "They will only ever love you." He told her softly and he meant it.

"But I couldn't let them send you away. I won't do that to you." she aimed for fierceness and missed, ending up disconsolate.

"Don't you worry yourself over me Meg." he dropped a kiss to her head. "I'm not going anywhere, not now." he leant back onto his knees, holding onto her hands and staring up into her tear stained face. He looked like he had no idea what to say, his hands warm around hers, her knees just brushing the sides of his body as she watched him struggle, eventually drawing up her hands and pressing a long, slow series of kisses to her shaking fingers. "You should have said." He breathed, his breath ghosting over her knuckles. "You shouldn't have done it alone, I was…." he bent his head as though in benediction, "I was right there, and you couldn't tell me." he berated himself. "I said I would always be there for you, and you couldn't come to me."

"This isn't your fault," She told him gently, "In any way. I would have told you if I could, I desperately wanted to tell you." she drew his hands up and held them to her chest, "I really did. And I won't lie, there was a part of me that was afraid of what you would say," his eyes swung up to her face. "But I missed you…"

"You were afraid of what I'd say?" He breathed softly, looking at her incredulously. "Meggie, I would never say anything to hurt you."

"I know." she said quickly, feeling his hands tighten around hers. "I know you wouldn't." she sniffed loudly and damned the tears that refused to still. "But everything happened so fast, and the more time that passed the more I started to think that maybe it would be best if I said nothing at all. That I could pretend it never happened. But I can't…" her voice cracked. "And I know its stupid because I didn't even know, didn't even want it, but its like there's something hollow inside me eating me up, and I don't know what to do. I shouldn't feel like this." She said despondently, meeting his horrified gaze.

He shook his head at her, freeing his hand to hold her gaze when she would have dropped her head. "There's no should or shouldn't." He said softly, it was apparent from the sharpness in his fixed gaze that he didn't know what to say himself, or even how to feel. With a small, gentle gesture he wiped away her tears, tucking her hair back behind her ears. Twice he made to speak, but rethought his words, halting breath matching the uneasy hitch of her chest as she turned her cheek into his hand, soaking in the solitary comfort only he could bring her. "I'm so sorry Meggie." he sounded torn, his voice and constrained. "I'm sorry…tell me what I can do."

"I don't know." She felt as though a dam was breaking inside her, crumbling into dust around her feet. "I don't know what to do." she grasped at his hand, holding it to her face as she pressed her eyes closed. "And I can't take it anymore, sitting in that room, saying nothing and trying not to think, I just want to get out….I want…" she hated herself in that moment. "I just want to forget. I want for it not to matter."

She felt herself slip from the swing and fall gracelessly into his arms, tumbling from her precarious perch when he tugged her down towards him, catching her and holding her as her tears came thick and fast. She clutched at his shirt, twisting and creasing it in her hot grip, soaking up her tears. Her whole body shook as her repressed misery and helplessness finally burst forth in heaving sobs, her cries muffled as she buried her face against his shoulder. "You're not alone now." He whispered in her hair, resting his cheek against her. "you don't have to be afraid with me."

"You don't think any less of me?" She whimpered, voice barely above a whisper and betraying her insecurity.

"How could I possibly think less of you?" He held her tighter for a moment. "You didn't choose this, you didn't choose any of this. If anything you should think less of me, I should never have let this happen." she could feel the reprehensive tension in his body.

"Please don't." she muttered, "Don't do that." She rubbed at her face, not wanting to hear his regret, because if he said anything now it would only tear at her heart more. "Don't tell me you regret this, I can't take that, not right now." she felt his arms flinch around her. "I just feel so claustrophobic, I want to….I don't know." she curled her legs up, leaning further into him. "I just feel like running away."

He sighed roughly, settling on the grass as she curled up in his lap. "It's never that easy." He whispered. "Trust me, I know." she could hear the self deprivation in his voice.

"I know, but I just want to get away somewhere where I don't have to hide what I'm feeling 'cause I'm scared that they'll find out."

"What will they do?" he asked her quietly, and she could tell he was just as apprehensive of her answer as she felt.

"I don't know. They'll be pissed. There's no doubt about that." she worried her lip between her teeth. "I mean, they still treat me like I'm a little girl sometimes, they didn't even want me to help out at the summer school in case that guy was working there."

"Everyone grows up Meg, your parents know that." he smoothed the hair back from her face and kissed at the frown that creased her brow.

"yeah….but I'm really worried they'll find out about us, I think Mo will be more annoyed at that." she pulled back and looked up at him, eyes tracing the dejected lines of his face. "I don't want to you to leave, and I have no idea what he'd do."

"Don't think about that now." He told her, lifting her chin and keeping her downcast gaze. "That doesn't matter now, no one knows about us." he stroked his hand across her cheek, looking distracted by an inner battle. "What I do know is that you're hurt, and that's not right." he gently kissed her forehead and her eyes flickered shut, her hands tightening in their grasp. "I can't even imagine what this is like for you." He breathed softly, a pain in his voice she'd never heard before.

"I really don't even know what to feel." She admitted quietly.

"I can understand that." there was the sudden hint of a smile gracing his lips, "I think. But you know what, I'm here now," He sat a little straighter, "And I promise you I'll make this right somehow. It's because of me that this happened, and I will do anything I can to make you better."

She tipped her head to the side, shaking her head as she frowned. "This isn't your fault." She told him vehemently.

"Come on Meggie," He raised his eyebrow but there was a seriousness to his voice. "you can't say you'd be in this position without me." he met her level stare. "I haven't exactly acted with any responsibility." She didn't know if he were talking about the fact that in their fervent desire neither of them had given any thought to protection, or the more harrowing subject of their fragile relationship. If she were honest with herself, she didn't want to know. She didn't even know exactly how he felt about her, it was one thing to whisper loving words against her heated skin, to promise fealty and support, but Meggie had always wondered at the nature of his attachment to her. She had had to fight against herself to keep those three little words that could either make her or destroy her kept behind sealed lips to protect herself in case she saw a disappointing truth in his eyes.

Of course she knew that he would always be there, he'd always told her that, had never turned her away when she sat down at his feet and rambled on about her ridiculous teenage troubles. He must have see the way her lips trembled, her suddenly broken hearted expression because he touched his fingers beneath her chin, raising her face so he could brush his lips against hers, making her realise all the more just how much she had missed him the last few days, missed being near him, held in his arms. 'Just tell me' her mind screamed, 'tell me you're in love with me'. it would make it all so much more bearable if she knew for sure.

Her name was called from the garden and she felt naked in the sudden space there was between them, the light breeze cold against her lips where they glistened in the wake of his tender kiss.

She stumbled back away from him, landing hard on her hands as she heard her father's footsteps coming closer, rustling through the long grass of the unkempt garden. She felt her heart sink, she'd barely been out of their sight for twenty minutes.

"Meggie, listen." Dustfinger grabbed her wrist, stopping her from retreating from him further. "Tonight, I'll come, I promise." He looked desperate for her to believe him. "I'll tell Farid something, anything, I don't care….but I'll come to you later, okay?"

Meggie nodded, an oddly hysterical happiness rushing up through her as his thumb travelled in small circles on the inside of her wrist. It was relief, pure and blinding, and suddenly his obvious concern was the most important thing in the world to her, because there was no way anyone could hold the pained look he did without caring deeply, and she realised that if it wasn't love, it was something very close, and she would accept that with all her heart.


	4. Chapter 4

**Please forgive any glaring mistakes in this chapter. I've had the most amazingly hellish week. x**

The storm broke on a Friday night, both figuratively and literally. The entire house seemed to shake as the air was rent apart by deafening peals of thunder as Meggie sat by the fireplace, watching Dustfinger and Farid light candles with a snap of their fingers, Farid's wonder of his learned skill still as fresh as the day he'd begun to master it.

The storm had knocked the power out some time ago and it had just started to get dark enough to need the extra night. They had watched it come over, an ominous cloud on the skyline that blurred the horizon beneath it, standing under the porch as the first drops began to fall from the sky, only retreating when the torrential downpour turned the air chilly and the novelty had worn off.

She'd been feeling an odd sort of tension the last couple of days, as though something big were coming soon. She thought maybe she could have put it down to the building storm, but even as it broke around them she could still feel the oppressive air that seemed to make the shadows larger and the light shrink back to small pools just around their point of illumination.

He had come to her as promised, she'd never asked him what excuse he gave Farid, it wouldn't be important anyhow. What was important was that he would come to her in the small hours of the night, the house creaking and settling around them, disguising the small sounds he made as he stole into her room, her anxious heart beating out of time as he drew near and climbed up onto the bed so she could bury her face against his chest, breathing him in and finally feeling a sense of peace. He sat with her dutifully, listening to her talk, joining her in silence, or brushing the hair from her face as she silently cried out a hurt she couldn't understand, and each night she came a little bit closer to telling him she loved him.

She shook her head from her thoughts, concentrating on the candle in her hand as she slowly rotated it in the flames of the fire, watching the wax melt and drip down the side in a fascinating winding path. She pushed it into a holder and held out the other, intending to light it when she saw her mother.

"Meggie." Resa's voice sounded oddly hollow and damp as she appeared in the doorway. "What's this?"

Meggie looked up, her easy smile freezing and then fading slowly as she recognised the business card in her hand. The one the nurse had given her before she'd left the hospital. Her heart sunk, and she could feel her face drop unconsciously under her mothers inscrutable stare. She was too late in measuring her response, she could tell by the slight raise in Resa's brow that she had seen the sudden heart dropping panic that had momentarily tightened her face. "I dunno." She pretended to squint, to try and see what she held in the dim and tawdry light.

"It's a card for a pregnancy clinic." Resa elaborated dryly.

The entire room seemed to stand still, the air around her felt thick and difficult to breath. She could feel Farid and her father staring at her, two points of intense focus that burnt her. It took all her strength not to look up at Dustfinger who had extinguished the flames in his hand. "Is it?" she wondered if her voice sounded as frail as it felt, she tried to look casual as she scrambled for an excuse, not even giving a thought to how Resa had found it. Meggie knew she'd slid it beneath her jewellery box, too afraid to even throw it in the trash in case it was seen. "They give those out at school." She came up with eventually, hoping she sounded at least half convincing, but she could tell by the look on her mother's face that she had failed.

"Then why did I find it beneath you're jewellery box?"

Meggie was tempted to ask what she'd been doing in her room, moving her stuff around, but it would be a pointless venture off topic and would only highlight the fact that she was hiding something. She tried to shrug, but the movement came out stiff and awkward.

"Is there something you want to tell us?" whether or not Resa intended to sound peevish or not, Meggie didn't know, but she pulled it off well.

She felt sick, suddenly claustrophobic and suffocated by the weight of the stares that rested with oppression on her shoulders. The desk chair scraped back as Mo stood up, his footsteps loud in the unnatural hush that filled the house, echoing loudly in amongst the thunder that raged through the outside air until he placed himself in her field of vision and she could raise her shaking gaze to meet his own curious and demanding one. "Meggie?" he prompted her.

She'd lost her voice, couldn't think of a single thing to say, and every second that passed only made everything worse, so much harder to deny.

"What's going on Meg?" she couldn't keep his gaze, felt as though she were betraying him with her ridiculous pretence of stoicism. He reached out and plucked the card out of Resa's hand, turning it over and reading the short blurb on the back. Meggie had memorised that card, knew every word upon it and knew that there was no way she could pretend it was anything other than what it stated, that it was in fact specifically for women and all aspects of pregnancy. There was no misinterpreting it.

"Are you pregnant?" Mo asked her, his voice a breathy whisper and she could tell yet whether it was shock or anger that hushed him as he pointed the card at her, drawing her guilty gaze, her eyes bright with a desperate hope that maybe they wouldn't blow this out of all proportion.

She didn't try to deny it, didn't attempt to shake her head them no, even though it was technically true, she had already condemned herself with her hesitation and rabbit in the headlight stare.

"Answer me." There was a hardness to her father's voice now and she could tell in which direction this conversation would go. She let her gaze flicker over to Dustfinger, meeting the haunted look in his eyes.

"I was." she whispered, feeling as though she were stepping from the edge of a cliff. She hugged her arms around her chest, holding onto herself as from the edge of the room she heard Farid gasp, seeing her mother's hand fly to cover her mouth out the corner of her eye.

"Were?" Whatever furious train Mo had started to work up lost its power and he straightened slightly. "What do you mean?"

"I mean I was, okay!" She burst out suddenly, snatching the card from his hand and crumpling it in her hand as a heated anger poured into her veins. She tossed the card to the floor and wondered whether they really had the right to be angry with her. "So no worries, no panic, you don't have to be ashamed of me." She met Resa's eyes, wide and shocked from her outburst, she could see her lips moving between her fingers.

"You had…you had an…" She couldn't bring herself to say it and Meggie faught from rolling her eyes at her apparent outrage.

"No, I didn't." She her voice was hard, constricted by her throat tightening. "I lost it." She nearly spat the words out, wanting them to inflict the same pain on them that they had on her. She felt an odd pulling at her chest and felt mortified to feel a sob building up inside her. She felt a warmth on her shoulder but she didn't stir, recognised the familiar heat of Dustfinger's silent support. She couldn't look at him, couldn't see the sadness in his eyes in case she lost herself like she did every time he looked at her like that.

"What?" Resa finally looked appropriately concerned. "When?"

Meggie shifted on her feet, unconsciously leaning further into his touch. "Last week." She replied bitterly.

She could practically hear the wheels turning in her father's mind, slowly but surely putting the pieces of the puzzle together, and she could pretty much anticipate the second his lips would part. "When I had to take you to the hospital?"

She didn't nod her head, merely tried to hold his gaze and show her defiance of the pain rather than the hurt she knew shone in her eyes.

"Why didn't you say anything?" he whispered.

"Because I didn't know what was going on." She admitted softly. "because I didn't want you to be angry."

"What happened?"

Meggie shrugged, she still didn't really understand even after reading up on the subject. She muttered the diagnosis they had given her at the hospital, briefly telling them what the doctor had said and taking an idle comfort in the fact that it had at least affected some concern in her father's eyes.

Mo snapped his mouth shut, working the unasked questions in the flexing of his jaw. He looked her up and down, his eyes catching on the supportive hand that lay on her shoulder, the intensity of his gaze like a brand that sent it sliding from its perch, his fingers trailing for just a moment until she was left bereft. "Who is he?" He said shortly, his words and tone clipped.

Meggie shook her head, instinctively denying the fact that she ever reveal that fact, especially not now, not when Mo looked quite so pissed off.

"You tell me who he is." He spoke lowly, and Meggie finally understood why all the girls at school had always been so terrified of letting their father's find out that they were dating, because right now it looked as though Mo were ready to rip someone's head from their neck. She shook her head, feeling somewhat powerless under his unrelenting gaze, as though he were trying to read her, to decipher the secret she held within her eyes. She fought hard to keep his gaze, desperately fighting the urge to glance at the man beside her for any form of encouragement or relief. "Right now, Meggie!"

She flinched back from him, colliding gently with Dustfinger who curled his hands around her shoulders to keep her steady.

"Mo…" He chided softly.

"Stay out of this." he growled roughly, stepping closer and looming over her in a manner so unbecoming of him. She had truly seen a different side of him this night, she searched his face for any hint of the father she knew.

"It doesn't matter." She said softly, hoping they would just believe she'd had some stupid one night thing with a guy from the school.

"It damn well does matter." Mo yelled, "I wanna know who's responsible for this." he was right on her face now, and she took another faltering step backwards, only held up from falling as Dustfinger matched her steps.

"I'm not going to tell you." She whispered defiantly, feeling the fine tremors than ran through her body.

"You damn well are." he grabbed hold of her wrist, twisting it almost painfully and she wasn't the only one to cry out. Both Farid and Resa called Mo's name and Dustfinger reached around her to grasp at his hand, barely prising it away before Mo had turned, planting his other hand against his chest and shoving him forcefully away.

"Dad!" Meggie looked desperately at Dustfinger, his hand over the spot where his skin stung from the violent reaction. She made to go to him but was held still by the iron grip he had on her wrist. "Let me go." She muttered lowly, trying to pull her arm away.

"Not until you tell me."

"No."

"Is it someone from school? Can't be anywhere else, all you've done is hung around the house." a sudden light illuminated his eyes and he swung round, aiming his triumphant gaze at Dustfinger, obviously knowing that he was the one person in the house that Meggie confided in, spent most of her time with. He had always made comments about them being joined at the hip, where there was one there was the other, so she wasn't at all surprised that he would eventually turn to him, the only person that could read her, could tell when she lied or spoke the truth. But she also knew her father wasn't stupid, was fairly adept at seeing past people's masks and bluffs, could often read the truth in their eyes, and as she looked at Dustfinger now, at the terrible mix of guilt and remorse so plain on his face, she knew it wouldn't take long at all for him to figure it out.

"You." He thrust his finger into Dustfinger's face. "You know, and don't lie to me because I know you spend more time with her than…." the realisation seemed to hit him as his furious whisper left his lips and Meggie felt her heart pounding painfully in her chest as his face dropped. "No." He breathed, his wide eyes roaming over Dustfinger's face, and for once she dearly wished that he was better at hiding his emotions. Mo stepped backwards, almost stumbling as though from a physical blow, shaking his head and holding Dustfinger's guilty stare. "No."

Meggie stepped forward, her breath held. "Mo…"

"NO!" Mo swung his suddenly livid face to face her and she flinched to see his eyes darkened. She'd never seen him get this angry, not with her at least, had only ever witnessed his ire directed at someone else, had never been the focus of it. The look in his eyes chilled her. "Tell me its not him." He held his arm out, an accusatory finger pointed towards Dustfinger who looked just as unsure and terrified as she felt. "Please god, Meggie. Tell me it's not him."

"Dad…." She breathed softly. It was useless to even try and lie.

Mo groaned, pulling at his hair with a sickened expression colouring his face. "Oh god."

"Dad, please…"

"Are you fucking kidding me?" His words exploded out of him and everyone in the room jumped, hands flinching and covering their shocked and opened mouths. She couldn't ever remember him swearing. Mo stood for a moment, all of them watching him as he moved from one foot to the other before he turned to face Dustfinger, his furious gaze burning with an unnatural light in the cast of the fire. "You got her pregnant?" He looked nauseated at his own words. "You got _my daughter _pregnant?"

Dustfinger didn't speak. He tried but he failed, there was nothing he might say that would temper Mo's fury and he knew that, so he lowered his gaze, staring with a terrifying regret at the floor beneath their feet. It was as much an admission of guilt as if he had come right out and said it.

In the next moment Mo had lunged across the short distance, his fist thrown through the air and there was a resounding crack that echoed in their cries as his aim landed with a painful accuracy against Dustfinger's cheek. Both Resa and Farid jumped forward, held motionless before now by the shocking revelation. They pulled at Mo's arms, dragging him backwards and holding his fists where they tried to lash out. Meggie felt something akin to a scream tear at her throat, a few short steps and she put herself between them, her eyes filling with tears as she watched Dustfinger rub his hand over where Mo's fist has landed, blood smearing under his fingers from the cut on his lip. "You son of a bitch." Mo shouted. "I've done everything for you, I took you in, and you go and fuck around with my daughter." Resa was barking his name, finally getting him to stop trying to lash out, but his face was still an ugly colour. "She's a god damn child!"

"Dad…" Meggie interjected.

"And you! What the hell were thinking?"

"I…" Could she say it? Having never actually said it out loud, not even to herself. "I love him."

Mo blinked, looking incredulous. "Don't be stupid."

"I'm not being stupid dad." She felt a vindication rising up against the debilitating anxiety.

He shook his head, shrugging out of the grip that Resa and Farid had on his arms, flexing his fists as though itching to lash out again. "How long has this been going on?" he fixed her with an inscrutable fixed stare. She risked a glance to the side, hoping to catch Dustfinger's eye but he was aiming his focus resolutely away from her. "How long?"

"Since graduation." She replied meekly, unable to meet his eye as she dropped her flaming face towards the floor.

"That was over two months ago." he spoke with a deadly calm and Meggie's eyes slid close at the obvious contempt in his tone. "You've been sneaking around behind my back, in my house, for two months?" She could tell these words were aimed at Dustfinger by the way he shifted awkwardly beside her. "Are you sick or something?"

"DAD!"

"No Meggie," Mo silenced her with a wave of his hand. "I want to hear this from him." he planted his hands on his hips. "So?"

Dustfinger looked at her then, a quick and furtive glance that practically screamed guilt and regret. "I have no excuses." He said softly, only just breathing the words. "All I can say is that I care for her very deeply, and it was never my intent to cause her any hurt."

"Well you failed at that didn't you, you put her in a goddamn hospital." Mo's voice raised again. Dustfinger hung his head, reflecting on the point that he already felt an overwhelming grief about. "She could have died!"

"That wasn't his fault." Meggie rushed in.

"Well it wouldn't have happened if he'd kept his damn hands to himself."

Meggie sniffed in the silence that followed his outburst, unable to meet the stares of anyone else, frightened to see what their eyes would hold should she look up. Her eyes felt hot, her throat tight as she muttered. "I don't understand why you're so angry."

"Don't you see how wrong this is?" Mo asked her, throwing his hands wide as he yelled.

The first of her desperate tears fell upon her cheeks as she whispered, sounding truly desolate. "But I love him."

"You have no idea what love is." Mo spat.

"What? Because I'm eighteen! You think people can't fall in love when they're young?" She argued.

Mo almost laughed, "He's old enough to be your father!"

"But he's not!"

"You haven't got a clue how the world works. Look at him…." He threw his arm out. "You really think he's good for you? He doesn't exist in this world Meggie!" She flinched at the angry truth in his statement.

"So what?" She stood a little straighter, feeling a defiance in her blood.

"So what!" Mo scoffed. "He can't even get a job!"

Meggie rolled her eyes, "What does that have to do with anything?"

"Everything!" He threw his hands up, gesticulating wildly until he turned to fix Dustfinger with a particularly deadly stare, his voice matching the steel of his glare. "How could you? She's a child!"

"I'm not a kid!" Meggie shouted, frustrated at having to make the same point.

"You may as well be." Mo turned on her. He ran a hand through his hair, heaving out a great sigh. "God…"

"Mo…" Dustfinger tried to step in.

"Don't you dare say anything." Mo pointed at him, a hard set to his face. "I'm through with you." He said dangerously. There was a sudden tension in the air, an odd weight that settled heavily on their shoulders and made the air hard to breath. "I want you out."

It felt to Meggie as though the air had been kicked from her lungs, a sudden dread icing in her veins as she stared at each of them in turn, ranging from shocked, to livid, then back to Dustfinger who stood now with an eerie calm, an odd thoughtful look on his face, brow pulled together by a small frown.

"Dad…." She would beg if she had to.

"No." His conviction sounded like absolute truth and he turned his terrible gaze on the dark, unmoving figure that Dustfinger made, taking just one more step closer as he leaned in, his hand trembling with his fury as he reached up to point his finger in his face. "Out." he whispered in a harsh sibilance. "Now."

The entire scene froze, caught up in only the moment and Meggie held her breath as she waited it out, aching for something to break through the indescribable tension. Then with a slow and deliberate motion, Dustfinger turned his face to look at her, a heartbreaking sadness edging the darkening of his eyes, and without a word, he turned and left.


	5. Chapter 5

**Something short to fill the gap. i'll admit i got a bit stuck after the last chapter, then my computer wiped off everything i'd done in the last six months. hiss grr snarl**

He had left

Had shifted his hastily packed bag on his shoulder and disappeared into the thick curtain of rain that fell around the house.

And she had watched him leave, the heat of her father's hands around her arms nothing in comparison to the warmth that had lingered from his touch as he had held her face one last time, a pained and hurried attestation of love whispered from his trembling lips when she had run out behind him, using the few seconds it would take for Mo to catch up to promise her that he would come for her, that he would be fine, that she should not think of him.

She had ached to press her lips to his, to taste the rain that gathered at the corner of his heartbreaking smile, but he had turned as she was jolted backwards, ignoring the blistering insults that Mo hurled at him as he vanished into the night.

It was a pure and immeasurable agony that filled her being afterwards, that turned her nights into endless restless dreams of pale skin and golden hair just beyond her reach.

She became listless, questioning the worth of everything she did in an apathetic display of despondency. She didn't eat unless coerced, would lie supine on the window seat, her attempts at reading forgotten as she stared out at the trees that surrounded the house.

She felt as though a part of her were missing, a real physical element that she didn't know she had, something she'd never realised she relied on before.

And it wasn't just her.

A general air of discontent seemed to permeate the house, his absence stirring up the reality that he had become a bigger part of their lives that they had realised. Sometimes Farid would come and sit with her, would start conversations that were never finished and stories that would falter long before the happy ending, often ending up with eyes fixed and unseeing, focusing on images within his mind.

Her father had changed in her eyes, his once gentle face seemed harsh, his stare punishing as he watched her push her food around her plate. He tried to fill the awkward silences that accompanied meal times with idle chatter that fell upon deaf ears. Sometimes when she caught his eye it seemed as though a spark of regret hid within the layers of pride and stubbornness that had turned his once trusting gaze into something that Meggie couldn't stand to face.

The days turned into weeks, the weeks into months and despite her mother's assurances that time would heal all wounds, Meggie still found herself unable to rid him from her mind.

Not a word, or a note, a simple phone call from him.

She started to think she should hate him, should feel a burning anger that he had given up on his promise, and cast her off so lightly and with such apparent ease. Leaving her empty and a pale shadow of the bright and energetic girl she had once been.

The seasons changed.

Slowly the days became shorter, the trees burnished with shades of gold, the wind holding the promise of the cold winter ahead.

She started to ring hospitals and halfway houses, anywhere she could think of that he might be, waiting until the others were busy or out until she would walk around the block to the phone booth down the road. A new number every day, the same description echoing down the crackling line. They had never heard of him, and she was foolish to believe they ever would. It was well within his means to disappear without a trace, to leave nothing behind but a false name and the impression of haunting blue eyes.

She would never find him, she knew that.

If he wanted her to come to him she would have known by now. She could only hope, could only pray that he would not go back on his word, that he would come back to her, would not make her wait forever staring blankly at the calendar with the days marked off since he had left.


	6. Chapter 6

**huge apologies! i won't even go into why its been forever since i updated, i can only say sorry. x**

Only five minutes left.

Meggie sighed and tucked a wayward strand of hair behind her ear, shifting into a more comfortable position where she was sat cross legged in front of the shelves, her fingers on autopilot as she tucked the new price listings into the little plastic fringe on the edge of the shelf.

She'd started the job as a means to get out of the house, to escape the oppressive silences that followed each strained conversation. It was only a convenience store, not even the big one on the edge of town, but it kept her busy enough and the management were great, trusting the rest of them to get on with their jobs, and in return she and the others formed a close team who had grown to genuinely like working there.

"You know you want to!" a leaflet fluttered into her line of sight and she looked up to see Jennifer and Nate grinning at her. They were the only two here apart from her, the remains of the day who preferred to work late shifts just as she did. Nate was swinging the safe keys on his finger, the jingling offsetting their mischievous faces.

Jennifer waggled the leaflet until Meggie took it even though she'd read it over countless times; even had several at home from where they'd been pressed upon her throughout the week. It was a carnival of some sort, a night of revelry and alcohol with rides and games and performance artists, and Jennifer's roller derby crew were going to try and round up new recruits. Meggie sighed and cocked her head, she'd run out of ways to say no.

"Nate's coming now!" Jen grinned and over her shoulder Nate bobbed on his toes.

"I dunno." She shrugged "I'm pretty tired..." She'd gone over it all, no money; she had plans already, washing her hair. It's not that she didn't want to go, she just didn't feel like being left behind and Jen had such a bubbly personality that she knew as soon as they got there she'd be off with her crew. But now that Nate was going...

"Go on." Nate chimed in, "You got a day off tomorrow, not need to worry about any after effects!"

"And I'll buy you a hotdog!" Jen pitched in gaily.

Meggie laughed despite herself and conceded with a nod. She needed to get out, needed to stop staring out of her window, eyes trained on the end of the path, watching, waiting.

He wasn't coming back. She knew this now, but it didn't make it hurt any less, didn't stop her crying at night and spending her days lost in her own memories. She tried to think that it wasn't his fault he hadn't returned, that something had come up, or an accident. All of these preferable to thinking he had simply given up on her.

"Fine, I'll come." She rolled her eyes as Jen whooped and punched the air.

"Coolio, just need to change." She skipped off to the back of the store while Nate rushed off to the tills leaving Meggie to drag herself up from the floor, gathering up the unused price tickets for the morning staff to carry on with.

It was the quickest she'd ever seen the store closed, the clock had barely gone past ten before she found herself outside the store watching the metal grates shutter down over the window as she pulled the collar up on her coat and secured her mittens a little more, her face pulled into a look of shock and amusement at Jennifer's derby get up. Winter was just starting and it was hardly the weather to be strolling around in torn fishnets and a skater skirt, but she wasn't at all surprised, Jen was one of those girls that your parents used to warn you about, with blue hair and a lip ring she was one of the stores most prized workers, if only because she gave the elderly shoppers something to whisper about.

They could hear the carnival long before they actually got to it, a haze of orange light reflected in the heavy clouds hovering over the fields that had been overrun. It was the town's big event, but most of the locals and families had visited during the day, their children dragging them by the hand as their parents forked out their hard earned cash on Ferris wheel rides and candy floss. But night had fallen and now it was the domain of the adolescent, those caught in the middle of leaving behind the juvenility of school and college and waiting to start their term in the real world. There was a fizz of excitement in the air and the breeze carried with it the enticing smell of burgers and onions cooked on grills. Meggie felt her stomach growl and was overwhelmingly happy when they made it their first stop.

It was a good idea, she mused, adjusting the hotdog in her mittened hands so as not to spill the onions. She could feel the edges of a smile on her face as she looked at Nate's face alive with merriment, he never really got invited anywhere, the perils of his crippling shyness and social paranoia's. But tonight he looked as though he'd finally realised what he'd been missing.

Jen disappeared just like Meggie thought she would, bounding off with a hurried promise to be back in a bit as soon as she caught sight of the rest of her team, a veritable flock of multicoloured hair and outrageous clothes that seemed to fit in with their surroundings.

"Let's take a walk." She waved her hand over to where there were game stalls, groups of teens crowded around as they tried to win oversized stuffed animals, throwing balls or aiming fishing rods in between sips of beer. She convinced Nate to try, encouraging him as he tried to toss a ball into a jar that was obviously too small for it to land in but he persevered and on the next one he actually managed to hook a duck and presented Meggie with a large puppy with doleful eyes.

She turned as a flash of fire caught her eye, a beacon of light ejected into the darkened sky in a pattern that made her heart leap. She gasped as her stomach dropped, her eyes scanning the crowd as she desperately looked to see where it had come from, ducking and bobbing as she tried to catch a glimpse of golden hair, but the crowd was thick with revellers, with derby girls and men on stilts.

It wouldn't be him anyway, she told herself. A sickening disappointment bloomed in her chest as she realised how much she still hoped to see him. She followed Nate to the rides, tucking the puppy into her coat as they clambered into the cart of something that spun them violently and she laughed despite herself, holding onto the bar in front as they slid and bumped into each other.

"I'm glad I came." Nate told her as they walked away from the drinks stall, neither of them being questioned as they ordered a couple of beers.

"I'm glad you did to." She replied. There was a whoop from the crowd and a round of applause from where a large crowd had gathered to watch some of the performance artists go over a routine, every now and then they would see one of the gymnasts being flung into the air to turn and twist in a ballet of movements before dropping back down behind the thriving masses.

"People find me awkward." He carried on, "But not you." He smiled at her.

Meggie smiled and nudged him with her elbow. "They just don't know you, ain't your fault your shy."

"It's just nice though, to hang out...with you." Meggie felt a stirring inside her, could see his eyes on her while she stared resolutely at the label on her bottle.

Nate had been working for the store long before she got there, one of those kids who'd resigned themselves to never trying to further themselves, too afraid to rock the boat, too scared of failing. But he was sweet, and kind, and would always go out of the way for any of them, regularly locking up for someone if they wanted to go early. He wasn't bad looking either.

And he was only a couple years older than her, she thought, her mind already a thousand thoughts ahead as she realised that Mo wouldn't mind a couple years age difference. She wanted to shake her head for thinking that.

"I went too far, didn't I?" Nate's voice picked its way through the haze of whispering thoughts.

It had been months, she told herself, he wasn't coming back.

"No!" She almost shouted, his face taught with a pained expression. "No, you didn't." She smiled at him and felt a flutter of relief when he relaxed, a nervous giggle bubbling up as his cheeks flamed and he stared at the ground.

There was an awkward silence despite the general chaos of background noise, and for a while they both shifted from foot to foot, pretending to preoccupied by the sights around them.

Could she? Meggie asked herself, could she pretend and make do? Nate was a lovely guy, he would treat her right, and he would be safe. No one would ever disapprove of Nate.

He was looking at her and she met his eye with a nervous apprehension, he looked so hopeful.

"Hey!" Jen burst out of the crowd and landed almost squarely between them. "We're doing our derby show, come on!" She grabbed them both by the wrists and dragged them forward into the throng and Meggie silently thanked her for her well timed distraction as she realised she had no idea what she would have said to him.

In the middle of the crowd there was a large space covered with huge square of wood to transform the area into a stage of sorts and around the edge men and women stood with burning torches in their hands, waiting for the girls in the middle to start their little show. With feral cries and a roar from the crowd they launched into a match, the sound of wheels on wood interspersed with the thud of competitors being floored. But Meggie didn't watch, she was caught instead by the fire breathers, watching them with an agonised heart as they spun their torches just like he had done, every nuance and movement just like his.

She was so captured that she only just notice when an arm snuck around her shoulders and she was startled to find Nate pressed against her side, permission written across his face. She couldn't find it in her to shrug him off, to hurt him and validate his fear of society. He seemed to smile, as though by not denying him she had effectively declared that his advances were fine, that she welcomed him. She could feel a sense of panic in her, a warring that constricted her chest.

Stop thinking of him, he's not coming back.

Nate is perfect.

She only needed to persuade herself, she could definitely do that right? And she did like him, she didn't find him repulsive in any way, she could definitely like him. Determination is all it would take, the perfect distraction to get her over him. So with a deliberate movement she stepped a little closer, could feel him straighten in surprise and curl his arm a little tighter around her shoulders.

But she still watched the fire, still anticipated each move as though she'd watched them a thousand times, and when Nate leaned in to kiss her, the lightest press of his lips against hers she felt the terrifying stab of betrayal burst forth from her heart. Her chest ached, her blood rushing in her ears as she pulled away, cheeks burning and eyes shining as she realised what she'd just done.

"I'm sorry." She muttered, barely audible over the crowd and she backed away, not daring to look at him, she couldn't face the hurt that she would see, the confusion and the pain.

She stumbled back into the crowd, pushing and shoving her way through, dropping her bottle as she struggled to get through the wall of people, their faces blurring in front of her eyes as she felt the tears build up in the wake of her guilt and confusion. She damned herself, damned the whole situation that she had wound up in, she damned her parents, and Dustfinger, everyone. She hated herself for still hurting.

She winced as someone stood on her toes and she elbowed them out the way only to find herself knocked sideways by someone else. Meggie stumbled, her ankle twisting on the uneven ground and she slammed into someone, grabbing onto them as she tried to stop herself from falling. She apologised profusely as she straightened, pushing her hair out of her face as she looked up.

Golden hair and achingly blue eyes.

Her breath froze, her heart stuttered and her brain almost shut down.

He was here.


	7. Chapter 7

It had started to rain, a light mist that had slowly and irrevocably turned into a drizzle, the droplets getting fatter and fatter until it started driving away the crowds. The more dedicated party goers clung the meagre shelter that the edges of the game booths provided, hunkering down in their winter coats and laughing and smiling despite the turn in the weather.

Meggie shivered and stepped back further into the overhang of the branches above her, the wind picking up and stirring her hair around her face where it had slipped out from beneath her scarf. She rubbed her hands inside her mittens, blowing on them until they steamed as she frantically scanned the crowds.

She could still feel the weight of his hands on her shoulders, the warmth of his breath as he'd leaned in and whispered in her ear, his words hushed and directed away from Nate who had come bursting out of the crowd in search for her. The feeling of utter loss as he'd brushed past her, leaving her with nothing but his promise and lingering rush of utter disbelief.

It had taken a lot of excuses and pleading for her to get Nate to leave, to let her wait alone beneath the shade of the tree where he'd told her he'd meet her.

She stomped her feet, the ground underneath damping down and she stared at her footprint in the light cast from the tents erected nearby trying desperately to ignore the suspicious stares of the travelling performers whose camp she loitered by.

Her heart was racing, the only thing that still convinced her that she hadn't dreamt it, hadn't produced some sort of fevered fantasy from the dark recesses of her mind. He was real. He was here. A thrill ran up her spine and her breath shuddered in her lungs, almost close to crying.

All these months spent waiting, watching every stranger that passed the end of their road, listening out on dark and stormy nights for a knock at the door that could be missed in the howling wind. She thought he had gone, thought he was never coming back, had finally, heartbreakingly given up on ever seeing his face again. She would have gone back tonight, her fingers feeling for the scrappy, dog eared photo that she kept beneath her pillow, its edges crumbled and blurred from repeated handling. She would have taken one last look at it, would have studied the lines of his face once more before placing it face down in her drawer, hoping above all else that come tomorrow she could fight the urge to wrench it open again.

The wind surged, carrying the rain beneath the boughs and causing the tent flaps to slap loudly against each other, she ducked her head and watched though slanted eyes as the carnival men raced about, tightening the guy ropes and lacing up the canvas seams. The raised their hands, one by one in a salute, their knuckles touched to their forelock like sailors used to do in the navy, nodding their respect to the figure that Meggie saw appearing through the gloom.

His step faltered when he saw her, straightening despite the onslaught of the rain, his hair soaked and clothes sticking to his skin, how he wasn't shivering she didn't know.

It was as though she'd gone back in time, to the night he'd left, her face numb and cold and stinging from the rain as she stepped out from the shelter of the tree, her hands clutched together as she walked hesitantly towards him. She felt sick, her throat closed and heart thumping as she blinked him into focus, blocking out the rain, ignoring the cold that had sunk into her trembling limbs, making them stiff and awkward as she stood before him, her voice frozen and any semblance of speech left unsaid.

The silence between them was deafening.

Every breath aching and weighted.

Hands twisting the front of her coat as he cast his darkened gaze over those who had stopped to stare.

He motioned for her to follow, his eyes not quite meeting hers as he walked past her into the lee wind provided by the little village that had been erected. Old and weathered faces peered out at them as they passed, some of the younger men still caught out the rain offered up the same salute as they hurried about, ducking into their sheeted homes.

She followed him, feet heavy and unguided as she traipsed behind him, peering up at the heavy slouch of his shoulders, bowed into himself against more than just the wind and the rain. Eventually they came to a stop, his hands blindly reaching for and holding back the entrance of a brightly tapestried tent, the sight of it something that could have leaked from the book he had come from. She waited only a moment before ducking her head and walking inside, stopping just short of the door and listening to the sounds of him securing the entry.

It was much larger than she would have thought, like the travelling camp of some long dead army, ancient possessions stacked up and on display, their edges muted and darkened, flickering shadows cast by the pallid light of the battered old lamp, its wick turned down in deference to the absence of its owner.

The silence seemed deafening now she was out of the wind, her cheeks tingling as she shifted from foot to foot, catching the tight expression on his face as he paced past her, dragging the sodden jumper he wore up and over his head, throwing it into a heap that lay hidden in the corner.

He stood motionless, his hands on his hips and face turned away, there was an air of finality about the way he let his breath out in a sigh, as though preparing to deliver a speech that he had rehearsed a thousand times, the words already formed and ordered in his mind until he finally had the opportunity and courage to voice them.

Maggie waited, breath baited and laboured under the heavy weight of her coat sitting wetly across her shoulders. She thought to speak first, to say anything to break the awkward tense atmosphere between them. She could ask him where he'd been, what he'd been doing.

Why he'd not come back.

And that was the crux of the matter she realised. He was here, back in the town he'd been forced from all those months ago, at an event that had been a long time in the planning. He must have known for a long time that he would be here on this night, had been there since the circus rolled into town. And she had not seen him. No flash of golden hair, no burning glance of blue eyes, no shadowy figure loitering at the end of her path.

She felt the sting of tears prickling at the edges of her eyes, her cheeks flaming with embarrassment as she realised that he had lead her to her fall.

She sniffed loudly, yanking off one soaked mitten so she could hastily shove at her hair, pushing it back behind her ear as she wiped at her face, hoping the tremble of her lips wasn't as noticeable as it felt. A deep breath gave her enough courage to look up, enough to nod her head and accept what he had come to say, but when she raised her eyes she found herself locked fast within his gaze, his face open and bewildered, and before she could ask him why he look at her like that he was there, his hands cradling her face in their glorious warmth, the heat of his lips setting her on fire as he raised her face to meet his.

It was redemption.

It was coming home.

It was every longing filled night, every broken dream, every minute of heartbreak moulded and compressed into one achingly perfect moment as his kiss lingered on the edge of her lips, his breath hot and sweet as he breathed her name, his entreaty pulling her up into his possessive kiss, his claim upon her shaking her down to the very sole of her boots, her hands suddenly upon his chest, off balance and off guard, her one uncovered hand instinctively seeking and finding the familiar beat of his heart beneath the wet shirt and rain chilled skin.

His hands were in her hair, her skin alight and shivering under his practiced touch, just as she had always been.

He hadn't changed.

Everything the same, the way she had to lean into him, pushing herself up onto her toes so as to reach up, demanding more, the way his thumb traced the line of her jaw, turning her face so he pushed against her. He tasted the same, of distant lands and all her hopes and dreams realised and her thirst for him could not be abated, not after so long having gone without.

She shrugged off the heavy weight of her coat, letting it spill and pool around her feet as she slung her arms up around his neck, pulling them close, never breaking their kiss.

She had missed the way his hands held themselves to the small of her back, the way his fingers always edged beneath the hem of her shirt, the minute contact always sending a thrill of pleasure coursing through her veins as he pulled her in tight.

She was on fire, her blood burning within her, hear breath heated where it mixed with his, her heart racing in her chest as the glorious triumph of finally having him within the circle of her arms once more. There existed nothing but them, nothing but the months of hurt and desperation wiped clean with the expert touch of his hands against her skin. She breathed him in, taking in every sense, every touch, every slow and desperate kiss as the fire built between them, hot and frenzied as the wind howled and the skies crashed down around them.


End file.
